


histories of the happy band

by silveryink



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Based on a Tumblr Post, Canon Compliant, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Implied/Referenced Character Death, i didn't include it in the warning because it's only mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:48:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23528656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silveryink/pseuds/silveryink
Summary: Frigga had been training to be a warrior as well, though her studies eventually drew her towards understanding the intricacies of magic, or seidr as they usually called it. Heimdall spent much of his youth in Vanaheim training to be a warrior before swiftly moving through the ranks of Einherjar and becoming the Guardian of the Bifrost. An uncommon friendship, but one quite cherished nonetheless.Or, five shared moments of friendship between Asgard's Queen and Gatekeeper, and one of reminiscence before stepping into the future.
Relationships: Frigga | Freyja & Heimdall (Marvel), Loki & Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15
Collections: Genuary 2021





	histories of the happy band

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I've been sensing a theme lately of me ignoring my longer WIPs (excluding _The World Can Be Ours_ ; which is currently being updated twice a week) and writing 5+1 stories based on Tumblr posts. (Here's the [post](https://silveryinkystar.tumblr.com/post/181294207932/still-waiting-for-the-gays-tin-can-iron-man) which I used as the prompt btw)  
> Also, I just wanted to make it clear that Heimdall and Frigga are, in this story, best friends with no romantic subtext between them.  
> Hope you all enjoy!  
> The title is from Good Wives (or Little Women, depending on the edition).

**1:**

Heimdall was quite new to his post. He’d spent much of his youth in Vanaheim training to be a warrior – an uncommon choice in the realm, but not at all frowned upon – and had finally applied for a position among the new Einherjar legions a century or so ago. He’d moved swiftly through the ranks and become part of King Odin’s personal guard, before being promoted very recently to the role of Asgard’s Gatekeeper. It took him a while to get used to seeing more or less everything in the Nine Realms, but once he did, Odin realised his perceptiveness and unofficially promoted him to advisor to the throne as well.

He’d only been part of Odin’s guard when the Valkyries fell after their last stand against Hela, but the tragedy was somewhat mollified in the eyes of the public when Odin decided to _erase the memories of those who knew._ Hela herself had been banished to a pocket dimension of her own, bound to Odin’s life and nonexistent to all other people who might have tried to find her.

She was no longer in the memories of the Aesir, and the Valkyries faded to legend. Heroes in every retelling, of course – Heimdall didn’t necessarily agree with this erasure of events, but at least the warrior ladies received the recognition for their feats that they deserved. He was one of the few who had been left alone with their memories, though he couldn’t fathom why.

What mattered right now, of course, was the gossip that floated around the palace and sifted into the towns – the talk of Odin courting the Lady Frigga of Vanaheim.

Heimdall had known that Odin’s first wife had passed away when their daughter was only a child, but even that was only because of his best friend’s constant chatter. Frigga had been training to be a warrior as well, though her studies eventually drew her towards understanding the intricacies of magic, or _seidr_ as they usually called it. He hadn’t really been interested in studying its theories when he had no capacity for such power, but ever since his promotion he’d been borrowing her tomes to understand his own abilities better.

“Hello, my friend,” she said as she casually strolled into his Observatory one morning. Heimdall had been sitting on the steps, scrolls and data crystals about _seidr_ theory and the mechanisms of the Bifrost strewn about him. “I doubt I’ve ever seen you with so many books during all the years we studied together.”

He made a face at her and promptly returned to reading the heavy tome before him. “Don’t you have anything better to do, such as stroll in the gardens with your paramour?”

Frigga chuckled and slid down to sit next to him. “My _paramour_ ,” she tried out the word, “happens to be your king.”

Heimdall inclined his head, frowning and consulting the scroll beside him. “I never denied that,” he said absently. “However, it does nothing to reduce the truth in my question.”

“Hmm. To answer you, no, I do _not_ have anything else to do. Odin is busy with the Council, apparently it’s something to do with trade routes, and I have done my fill of work.”

Heimdall knew this, of course, otherwise she wouldn’t have told him so. “And so you arrived, determined to bother me.”

“I think I’m more likely to help you,” she said dryly. “Of the two of us, I’ve always been better with magic.”

Heimdall hummed in agreement, and Frigga tugged the scroll out of his hands gently, pausing for a moment to read what he was trying to understand. “The mechanics of the Bifrost are simple enough, objectively,” Heimdall said, “but I need to be quite familiar with how to manipulate it if I am to be of any use.”

“No use having the key when you don’t know how to turn it in the lock,” Frigga agreed. Heimdall wondered if this was an apt metaphor for his position, and if this theory would actually be simple enough for an experienced mage such as herself. He was proud of being knowledgeable in the ways the Nine Realms worked, but he could set his pride aside if it meant doing his job better.

“As you said, it’s rather simple,” Frigga started. “You have to stop thinking of it as an object and more…”

* * *

**2:**

Heimdall supposed it was not enough to say that life was eventful in the palace. He had been present when Odin brought Loki to Asgard from Jotunheim, and that had been rather amusing, if not endearing, to watch.

The All-Father had perked up noticeably when Frigga swept into the Observatory, but she was slightly aghast at his state. “Odin, are you missing an _eye_?”

He shrugged, unsure of what to say. She huffed and moved to embrace him, chastising him as she did so, “I gave you _one_ instruction, to return unharmed, and this is what you do.”

Naturally she was relieved that it was nothing worse, but her attention just then was caught by a noise from somewhere about Odin’s middle. She stepped back and glanced down; her husband appeared to be holding a bundle of cloth – no, a _baby_ swaddled in a mercifully clean blanket.

“You’d better have a good explanation for this,” she said, and Odin told her of what had transpired in the Temple in Jotunheim’s capital.

Heimdall hadn’t been there for the fight, but he and Odin had shared a visual link as the king fought his way through armies into the capital before forcing Laufey to surrender. He’d watched as Odin took the child with him to the camp, and wondered what would come of this choice in the future.

The king and queen seemed to be cooing over the infant now, but Heimdall snapped to attention when Odin said, “They can’t know.”

Frigga frowned. “What do you mean? He’s a shapeshifter, and his power is latent but strong, especially for his age. I can sense it practically radiating off him.”

“This battle has been long incoming, Frigga,” Odin said softly. “The prejudice against Jotnar is strong and will only become worse in the future.”

“We could stop it,” she protested, and sighed. “We have to tell him, though. When he’s old enough.”

“Of course, my dear,” Odin promised. “Once we ensure that the prejudice does not arise or disturb the existing image of Jotnar: fierce warriors of another culture, and opponents in a single war.”

“I suppose it is all we can do to introduce him as our child to the public,” she relented.

“What?”

Heimdall almost snorted loudly, what had the All-Father been expecting otherwise? To hand off the infant he’d rescued to another family, who might have been less prepared to accept a Jotun infant into the household, who may lack the resources that they might need due to the differences in biology?

“I _have_ been keeping to myself mostly in the past year,” she added pointedly. “We could say it was an added precaution to ensure that the children remained safe, what with the war.”

“I – of course,” Odin floundered, and Frigga had to hide a roll of her eyes. “We should name him Loki.”

Frigga met Heimdall’s sharp gaze with an almost-grin, then looked back down at the child. “I think I like that,” she said, her grin melting into a soft smile as she tweaked the baby’s nose. The baby let out a squeaky giggle, and that was that.

* * *

**3:**

“It’s been a while since you dropped by,” Heimdall greeted amiably.

“Has it? Chasing two boys around the palace makes the day a lot shorter than it actually is,” Frigga said, lowering herself gracelessly onto the stairs by the central panel. Heimdall chuckled and sat next to her.

  
“You know, Loki has somehow mastered creating fire with his _seidr_ ,” she said conversationally. “I have to think twice before leaving him in a room near anything flammable, otherwise it’s long gone.”

“I… is this normal behaviour for children?”

“Mother always used to complain that the moment she turned away, I’d have cast an invisibility illusion about myself and scared the nurses into thinking I’d disappeared. I suppose this is what I get in return,” Frigga shrugged. “Thor seems to be encouraging this too. I put a stop to _that,_ ” she added. “Although it means neither of the boys are allowed near anything made of wood.”

“Luckily, gold is in ample supply,” Heimdall said with a nod.

Frigga shrugged. “However dangerous it is, I’m rather impressed by Loki’s raw power. I’ll be teaching him the basics of controlling his _seidr_ soon enough, hopefully that will dissuade him from burning down the palace before he joins the training fields.”

The next incident happened a few years later, and Heimdall smirked at an exasperated Frigga as he stepped into her chambers. “Your Majesty,” he greeted.

“Don’t,” she said, not moving from where she’d rested her elbows on the table, and her head in her hands.

“I hear your son has learned how to control his shapeshifting,” he persisted. “Don’t most mages take centuries to master such abilities?”

Frigga glared at him. “He changed into a snake and scared the living daylights out of his mentors,” she said. “I love him, but it’s exhausting to keep up with him and his mischief sometimes.”

A shout echoed from the corridors outside, and two small figures burst in. “Mother, Loki _stabbed_ me,” cried Thor, with said culprit right on his heels.

“I already said I was sorry! It’s hardly a graze, and I even healed it for you.”

“Being stabbed hurts, though, and Mother told you not to do it anyway!”

“Your brother is right,” Frigga said to Loki, who now looked quite sheepish. “I’m pleased that you remembered my healing lessons, but disappointed that you stabbed your brother again.”

 _Again_?

“Sorry, Mother,” Loki mumbled, apparently doing his best to scuff a hole in the rug.

“I’m not the one who needs an apology, Loki.”

Loki frowned for a moment and apologized to his brother, who forgave him instantly – something that amazed Heimdall, before the pair ran off to do whatever they’d been doing before this interruption.

“Keep your weapons in your chambers,” Frigga called after them, and nodded when she heard their answering cries of affirmation.

She sighed and looked back at Heimdall, who’d mostly been silently observing what was unfolding. “Do you see what I mean?”

His only reply was a chuckle.

* * *

**4:**

When Frigga walked into the Observatory with a few scrolls bundled in her arms, she hadn’t expected Heimdall to react the way he did. She’d been planning on visiting her parents in Vanaheim while she returned some of their texts she’d loaned from them during her last visit along with the rest of the royal family. What she got instead was an exasperated, “You won’t believe what your sons did in Alfheim.”

She raised a brow. “I imagine they were assisting Chief Ragnar organize a coup to overthrow their dictator, as was expected of them to do while on their decoy trip to stay with the royal family?”

“Most of the plan proceeded as expected,” Heimdall said. “The rest was improvised rather _creatively_.”

“Norns. Do you know if they succeeded or were discovered?” The latter didn’t bear thinking about, but Frigga needed to know if her sons were hale.

“Oh, they succeeded,” he said, and relief caught her throat as her heart swooped. “It’s _how_ they did so that impresses me.”

“Show me,” she suggested, catching on to her friend’s mood instantly and _knowing_ that she would want to see it for herself instead of hearing his account.

Heimdall reached out and took hold of her shoulder. The familiar tingling of his power flooded through her veins beside her own _seidr_ , before it latched onto her mind and sight. Suddenly, she was watching the scene as it had transpired, as though she were also in the room that her sons had just boarded themselves in.

“That was a damn fool thing to do,” Loki berated Thor as he snapped the lock shut and sealed it magically. It was unlikely that the seal would hold – the elves were powerful spellcasters and would sooner identify his signature and break it apart collectively than give up as any other lesser mage might have done. In any case, this enchantment was weaker than Loki’s usual spells, since he’d spent part of his energy in disguising his signature.

Frigga wondered who’d taught him this particular skill.

“You’re lucky they didn’t see our faces, otherwise we would be dead, physically or politically.”

It was true enough – the two of them had been wearing the armour Loki had had crafted specifically for stealth, as well as makeshift masks (scarves, really, tied expertly to hide every facial feature save their eyes). Loki had gone so far as to pull his _seidr_ deep into his soul, dulling the piercing green of his eyes to a washed-out grey. Thor’s eyes were prone to change hue anyhow, so it was unlikely they could recognize him by that alone.

“You can continue to scold me, brother, or offer a good plan going henceforth.”

Loki growled softly. “I’ve already suggested cloaking us so that we would go unseen. I suppose it’s unfortunate that I haven’t figured out how to teleport yet, otherwise we could simply leave.”

Thor stilled. Frigga grinned; her older son held his plans and intellect close to his chest, and let others believe him to be a typical warrior type rather than the keen strategist he often proved to be when he needed to. Granted, this image was reinforced by his impulsiveness, but it was by no means accurate. She knew that look well, and so did Loki.

“Thor-”

“You won’t like this.”

“I can tell,” Loki said sarcastically, but gestured for Thor to continue.

The vision fractured and skipped ahead to the plan itself, which apparently involved the brothers simply strolling down the parallel corridor, which was mercifully empty. Frigga could tell that Heimdall had skipped ahead to what he must have found most amusing, which meant that she would too.

When they reached the intersection, Loki slung his arm across Thor’s shoulders and appeared to slump in exhaustion. Thor, for his part, cried, “Help, my brother is dying! Get help, quickly!”

Frigga wondered what exactly this was supposed to achieve, save to call attention to their presence _and_ identity, when four guards rushed in to assist the princes. Thor’s grip on his brother shifted and Frigga watched in mute shock as he _hurled_ Loki across the length of the corridor. The momentum sent three of the guards flying into the wall, while the fourth slammed his head against the stone gargoyle that lined the palace walls at intervals.

Loki grunted and got to his feet, dusting himself off and wincing. “I’m never doing that again,” he said, and Thor chuckled as he jogged over to him.

“We do have a clear path, brother, isn’t that what you wanted? And you didn’t even have to use your magic!”

To say that the glare Loki shot at his brother would have pulled Thor into atoms if it were possible to incapacitate people with a single look was a massive understatement. Frigga laughed, somewhat hysterically considering what she had just witnessed. The vision faded and Heimdall’s power receded from her system.

Frigga exhaled once. Her boys were in _so_ much trouble when they returned from their trip.

* * *

**5:**

Midgard had been somewhat neglected in the years by the Odinsons among all their travels. It was understandable for them to keep out of Jotunheim due to the ban on travel that even Loki followed without question, or Muspellheim – which didn’t seem to agree with either of the brothers for entirely different reasons; but Midgard was simply an ignored realm.

It was possible that Odin had forgotten about its significance at the nexus of Yggdrasil, since they’d pulled back contact a millennium ago, but that didn’t discourage his sons from visiting them regularly since the Migardian eighteenth century. Frigga made sure to keep their visits short due to the painfully limited lifespan of humans they might have befriended – it would amount to nothing to bar them from travelling off-world, of course, so this was the next best alternative.

It did help matters that they couldn’t participate in the political affairs of the realm, by Odin’s own decree. The law pulled them back to Asgard before they could dip their feet into three revolutions, two wars and several dethronings. At least the brothers used some form of false names while they stayed on Earth.

One thing Frigga and Heimdall could count on, whenever either of the Odinsons decided to travel to Midgard, was them bringing back souvenirs. Once a board game that looked and sounded a lot like _hnefatafl_ , another time a copy of a play that humans had henceforth assumed to be lost, or perhaps something else they found memorable. Every so often, there was an amusing tale that accompanied it.

Heimdall would cite the time Loki ran a speakeasy in 1920s America, much to the authorities’ exasperation at raiding the place one too many times and finding it absent of any sort of liquor thanks to some swift spellcasting. It was equally likely that his customers found this disorienting, but they usually chalked it up to excessive alcohol or didn’t question it as long as they weren’t caught in the act. Many tears were shed when the place was eventually shut down on the eve of another war.

Frigga, meanwhile, would chuckle fondly at the time the brothers decided to take a rather important mission into their own hands in the eighteenth century. She hadn’t thought it necessary to call them back to Asgard yet, though once the revolutionary wars were in full swing, they’d returned of their own accord (they’d made friends among the soldiers’ barracks too, and grieved their losses when they heard of them. Frigga hadn’t mentioned it if they’d been missing for a better part of a day before they’d returned looking slightly more subdued than usual).

She’d found the incident about as amusing as the _Get Help_ scene on Alfheim, but she could sympathise with Loki’s glee at having his brother be the subject of humiliation in this plan. It had involved Thor upsetting things and pinching them after knocking something over, giving him an excuse to stoop down and pocket it unnoticed as Loki apologized profusely in the role of the embarrassed younger brother.

She spun the rows of the coloured rows of the cube her younger son had brought back from Midgard this time, satisfied when she saw that all the colours were matched up. She slipped it into the box of trinkets she’d collected over the centuries with a smile. Perhaps, despite all the risks, travelling to Midgard unnoticed wasn’t a bad idea after all. Which book was it that Loki had mentioned contained notes about crossing Yggdrasil?

* * *

**+1:**

It had only been four years since the attack on Asgard by the Dark Elves, but Heimdall still felt the loss of his best friend keenly. The latest development did distract him from his sorrow – searching for the strongholds and setting evacuation procedures into place took up enough of his time to keep from grieving constantly. Eventually the empty space in his heart where Frigga had belonged felt less like a stabbing agony everytime he remembered her, and softened into a dull ache he could ignore when he was working with the king.

Odin was safe on Midgard, he knew. He and Loki never mentioned it to each other when they met in secret, but Heimdall could see the signs of healing and acceptance of his identity in the trickster. He was equally entertained and vexed by the return of his histrionics as well; the statue _was_ laying it on a bit thick. It was a wonder none of the Aesir had up and revolted yet.

Whatever the reason, Heimdall knew that everything had come full circle when Hela returned to Asgard. He Saw it, as Skurge was ever unable to, and moved the people to the empty bunkers he’d been preparing in the years of his ‘banishment’. He could see as the much-beloved orchards were burned down in Hela’s rage, the fear of the citizens who escaped into the forests that lined the realm, the destruction of the Einherjar forces.

Heimdall had never forgotten how easy it had been for her to slay the Valkyries, but the slaughter of the Einherjar armies reminded him of the power she commanded. Goddess of Death. It was a fitting title.

Thankfully, he managed to reach out to Thor, who assured him that he would do his best to return swiftly – though it had only been hours since his disappearance and supposed death. And return he did, though Heimdall had to admit that they were trapped on the Bifrost with no way out (he hadn’t counted on the wolf). The fog thickened around the oceans and seemed to darken, though Heimdall could see through it clearly. He smirked slightly as he deftly blocked the attacking soldiers with his sword.

“Your saviour is here!”

He shook his head as the trickster’s cape swirled around him as the ship gently came to rest by the Bifrost. Loki ushered their people into the ship, peppering his gestures with the occasional ‘coming through’ and ‘did you miss me?’. Heimdall hid a chuckle and regretted the distraction when an undead soldier knocked him down. He raised his sword automatically to parry the incoming strike, but the soldier stumbled back and tumbled into the sea below.

He grunted and got to his feet. “Welcome home,” he greeted. “I saw you coming.”

“Of course you did,” Loki said blithely, and promptly turned back into battle – though not before Heimdall saw a small smirk turning up the corner of his mouth. Twin daggers appeared in Loki’s hands with a small green-gold flash, and Heimdall shifted into an appropriate stance to face the army that was facing them off.

And, when the huge blast of lightning knocked down a section of the balcony that extended past the throne room (and Hela with it), all he could think was, _Frigga, you would’ve loved this._


End file.
